


Longing For the Stars to End

by Itar94



Series: Building Neutron Stars [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Building Neutron Stars: The John/Rodney Arc, Childbirth, Episode: s02e12 Epiphany, M/M, Mpreg, Season/Series 02, Trapped, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:49:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itar94/pseuds/Itar94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While the villagers meditate, John dreams of Ferris Wheels and flying cities and of Rodney overturning planets as he races to find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The continuation of [Calculating Curves No One Can Read](http://archiveofourown.org/works/913873/chapters/1771534). In order to fully understand this story I advice you to start in the beginning of this series with [Flying a Ship With Silver Lining](http://archiveofourown.org/works/909110/chapters/1760649).

[ ](http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Building%20Neutron%20Stars:%20The%20John*s*Rodney%20Arc)

**Longing** /ˈlɒŋɪŋ/ _  
_[noun] _  
_ _unfulfilled desire;_  
 _wishing for someone out of reach;_  
 _a strong feeling for wanting_  
 _something more_

* * *

P3X-GH4 is at first glance quite uninteresting. There are no people on it, as far as they can detect, and the only structures they can find are ruins, withered into useless chunks of stone since long ago. The Stargate is in orbit around the planet, therefore neither Teyla nor Ronon have visited it before. The energy readings are curious though and the reason they’ve given a go is because Rodney reckons there could be a ZPM down there.

It’s meant to be one of his final missions – at least if Elizabeth and the others will have their way (John still argues with them about it; he hasn’t lost his ability to fire a P90 yet). But he’s nineteen weeks along now, and he’s starting to feel the strain, his calves aching when he’s been walking for too long; running is fine as long as the terrain is flat which is basically only in Atlantis (Rodney thinks he’s crazy, still going on morning jogs with Ronon every day, but Carson assures him it’s fine), plus it’s awkward to get cravings at the most inopportune of moments.

Besides, if it’s going to be such a big deal, everybody fussing every time he steps through the gate, it might just be worth it to step down now. It’ll be boring as hell but, well, maybe Teyla is right about spending time to indulge himself and connect with the baby, as she puts it. But it’s difficult to just let go. He’s the team leader. This is what they _do_. To imagine the next four months all without going off-world is weird and he might start clawing at the walls at the very thought.

He’s never been good at sitting behind desks.

They land fifty yards south of the place where the energy signature is coming from. John hopes there aren’t any deadly traps or some Ancient ambush lying in wait for them, but the chances of that are pretty slim. One can never just find a ZPM, pick it up and walk away.

“You could, you know, wait in the jumper,” Rodney edges once they’ve landed. John only looks at him, and the scientist huffs something about stubbornness and lets him come along.

“Okay, fine, but if there are Wraith out there –”

“We didn’t pick up anything on the scanners.”

“- _if_ there’s an enemy presence or if something dangerous shows up, you should fall back to the jumper.”

“Unless I shoot it first.”

“Oh, come _on_ , that’s _such_ typical military thinking. Of course you have to resort to that. Nothing better than to blow things up. Oh my god, you’re going to corrupt that baby before it’s even _born_. However am I supposed to get it into a decent university with you as its birth-parent?”

John flashes a grin. “Oh, don’t worry, Rodney,” he drawls, “I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

* * *

It’s mean to be a simple mission. Jump down onto the planet, localize the power source, deem if it’s stable and safe and then decide whether to send a scientist team later to examine it properly. They don’t run into any locals or any Wraith.

Only the energy they’re tracking is coming from within a large valley, but they realize this once they’ve already landed in the thick underbrush. So they decide to walk instead of taking the jumper into flight again. On foot they have more time to examine the planet more closely. There’s little wildlife to be seen, but far-off birds are singing.

The opening leading through the ridge looks perfectly harmless, and Rodney’s talking excitedly about the possibly of locating a ZPM and doesn’t look at his datapad properly the moment they find the door-like valve and John, leading them onwards, steps through.

“Hang on,” Rodney starts, reading something, but it’s too late.

John’s hands tingle, and he can’t back out and his feet are sucked in, and behind him he feels Ronon move forward to catch him, hold him back, just as Rodney cries out – something is wrong, something is very wrong but John is too busy struggling to think.

Then the veil swallows him up completely and Rodney’s shout is cut off in mid-word.

* * *

He stumbles into a pitch-black cave, managing to catch himself against a wall before falling.

That was – _weird_.

He turns around, but instead of the bright forest beyond the barrier or whatever it was that he just walked through, there’s an empty space. No sign of Rodney, Teyla or Ronon. No sign of _anything_.

He reaches out a hand but quickly draws back – it’s like touching a shield or energy field, tendrils of pain rushing up his arm. Trying to walk through it would probably only hurt as hell. Not wanting to risk harming the baby if that’s true, he picks up a stone and throws it at the dark wall.

The barrier flickers, a molten blue for a second, rippling like water as it catches the stone and hurls it back at his feet.

“Damn it.” He picks up his radio. “Rodney, do you copy? Teyla, Ronon, please come in.” he waits for a moment, but gains nothing in return. “This is Sheppard, please respond. Teyla, Ronon, come in …”

* * *

“ _John_!”

Ronon launches forward, but right before the Satedan’s hand touches the barrier Rodney cries out, stopping him. “No! Wait!”

“We’re not leaving Sheppard in there!” Ronon growls furiously. “He fucking _disappeared_ , McKay!”

“We’re not sure what the barrier is or what it does. Obviously the portal reacts differently to organic matter than it does to animate objects. Teyla, show me that video again. I’ve got a theory, but …”

_Don’t let it be true. Don’t let it be. Let me be wrong._

The Athosian hands him the camera and this time, he looks at it closely, taking in the data on the tiny screen and when he sees the numbers in the corner, he freezes up, face going pale.

No. _No_.

“What is it?” Teyla asks, a frown marring her face. “Rodney?”

The camera isn’t entirely steady in his hands. Oh god, they’ve been so fucking stupid, he’s been so blind, not warning John in time not to step through that damn barrier because it’s not just some cloak, it’s –

“We didn’t film for more than three seconds. But – look, _look_ , Teyla. Look at those numbers there! Does that say zero minutes three seconds, huh?”

00:11:43.

The wheels in Rodney's head start spinning.

* * *

“I’m on some kind of cave,” he goes on. "Inside the ridge, I guess. And I can’t get out of it – it’s shielded. I’ve taken a look around the area, there isn’t much to see, just a forest outside the cave and I’ve not ventured further yet in the –“ he glances at the watch on his arm “- two and a half hours I’ve been here. So I’m quite ready to be rescued now.”

Silence.

“Look, if you can hear me, please respond.”

Darkness.

“This is Sheppard. Please respond.”

Not even static.

“Rodney, Teyla, Ronon, if you can hear me, _please respond_.”

* * *

“Since I’ve got no volleyball to talk to, I’m settling for my radio and maybe you could catch my signal through the barrier even if the chances are slim. It’s probably magnetically shielded or something. So, I’m in a cave. It’s empty and dark, but dry and quite warm. Cozy. I should be okay. Nobody’s shooting at me, which is good.”

He settles on a perched rock.

“Wonder how cold the nights get at this place.”

* * *

He finds some dry branches half-buried in the sandy ground, and it doesn’t take long to get a fire going. It’s tiny and he sits staring at the flames, waiting, _waiting_ , as night falls, but there’s no sign of activity within the cave or in the opening of the barrier. Eventually he lies down to sleep, but he can’t find it.

* * *

“I’m getting a bit peachy here, Rodney, so I wouldn’t mind if you hurried it up. Now would be a good time for you to send me some food and not the rock you threw inside half an hour ago. Junior here is kicking my kidney, agreeing with me, just so you know. You keep missing all these moments with the baby and if you keep this up -”

He pauses. Wonders if anyone can hear. If Rodney can hear. If they _could_ hear him, they would have replied. Just a word would’ve been enough.

And he feels a bit guilty because Rodney never got proper readings, he never knew what the barrier was and it’s his own fucking fault for getting here. He should’ve told them to turn around and send a science team back later to investigate it properly before he or anyone stepped through. He should’ve stayed with the jumper, even if it would’ve been out of character and Ronon would’ve asked if something was up, because if he’d stayed behind he wouldn’t be in this mess.

“Just hurry it up, Rodney. We don’t leave our people behind.”

* * *

He rests for three hours – a fitful sleep, his back protesting as he tried finding a comfortable position on the stone - before he stands again and throws another pebble at the barrier. Just like before, it bounces back.

 _Wonderful_.

He can stick with sarcasm. Using sarcasm and talking into his radio he might keep his head up for another day without going mad, without losing it, while he waits for Rodney to come up with something. Because Rodney will. He won’t just leave him here to rot.

“It’s been approximately forty hours now since my arrival and tomorrow I’ll have to search for fresh water,” he reports. “Given there’s nothing but sand in here, I have to leave the cave, which means if you somehow manage to get in here, you shouldn’t need to panic. That is, if you can pick up my radio signal and hears me saying this, in which case I also want to add that, furthermore, Rodney, you’re an _idiot_. Now, I’m turning off my radio for another six hours to preserve the batteries.”

* * *

“A … time dilation field? I don’t understand –” Teyla says but Rodney cuts her off before she can say more, and he can’t give them a sufficient explanation because there’s no time.

They have no _time_.

This is bad. Very, very bad.

* * *

Even if it hurts, he punches the barrier anyways.

Shooting at it is a bad idea though, he nearly takes his own foot off and he yells for a bit at himself but no one is here to hear so it doesn’t matter in the end. But if a bullet can’t pierce it and living matter can’t get through from this side –

“This is damn right _problematic_ , Rodney!”

* * *

The whole cave trembles.

“Oh thank _god!”_

The two bags slung through the portal are meagre, but it’s _something_ , even if it took them fucking long enough. He scrambles through their contents until he finds a stack of MREs by the bottom and he gulps down two along with some of the water also sent through. Nothing’s ever tasted so good.

“You could’ve left a note!”

No one answers.

“Well, it figures. You’re probably too busy to write notes, Rodney,” he mutters darkly into the radio.

* * *

“I fucking miss having a razor.”

He scratches his chin. He’s not had a beard for years, so the stubble feels odd and uncomfortable. That and the fact he’d really like a shower. Of course, he’s been through worse, so a bit of sweat never hurts anybody. He’s not being shot at or hunted by Wraith or nearly getting eaten by wild alien creatures. In fact, there’s no direct danger of the violent kind; but he’s been in here for, what, two and a half days now, and he’s run out of MREs and an hour ago he drank the last of his water supply.

He can’t stay here. Were he not pregnant, he could’ve lingered a bit more. Hung onto the thread of hope that Rodney would come now, any minute now, breach the barrier and get him out – but nothing happens, and his body cannot sustain both himself and the baby forever on badly flavoured nutrition bars.

* * *

“Damn it, McKay, _hurry_. How hard can it honestly be for you to solve this equation? Honestly. I’ve only given you fifty-seven hours here; it’s more than enough time to get to Earth and back a dozen times over. This is the sort of thing you fix in ten fucking _minutes_.”

* * *

“I’ve explored the cave but there’s nothing here to live on and I’ve run out of firewood. Perhaps there’s something outside the immediate area that can help me. Or at least something I could eat. Not that I didn’t appreciate the three canteens of water and the whole handful of power-bars …”

Talking is a waste of energy. He’s been conserving it by sitting here, just sitting and waiting for many hours after getting a good look around the area to conclude that he cannot stay. But Rodney and the others have got to come soon. Find him.

“I’ve got to get moving, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Sheppard out.”

He leaves an arrow built of pebbles for them to find, pointing in the direction of the entrance to the cave, in case they one day get through and sees it.

Had he had a pen and paper available or at least enough rocks to build a more detailed message, he’d have written something along the lines of RODNEY YOU MORON HURRY THE FUCK UP, but he leaves the arrow as it is before exiting the cave, glancing back at the portal a final time, but there’s no sign of movement.


	2. Chapter 2

There’s a path, leading through the woods and crossing a wide open field, over a hill and there, in the valley, smoke is rising from the chimneys. Civilization. Thank god. Even if it’s a medieval looking village, there are people, and if nothing else he could at least get some water and food before he tries finding some other way out of here. How come they hadn’t detected them before? Perhaps the barrier …

If one can only get in but not out, that explains some things.

The people are clad in the colours of the earth, and there’s an air of peaceful simplicity over the whole village. As he approaches, a man (beta, his scent unimaginative) carrying the tools of a farmer goes up to meet him.

“Hail, stranger! Welcome to the Sanctuary.”

“Thanks,” except he isn’t that thankful of being here but he’s tactful enough not to say that directly; it won’t do to insult and anger the locals first thing. “I’m Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard.”

“Arvid is my name. You must have come through the barrier.” The man sounds curious and excited. “No newcomers have appeared for tens of generations.”

“Uh, yeah. The thing is, I’m not exactly meant to be here … I’ve been trying to leave for a while.”

The man frowns. “Did you not heed the warnings before entering the Sanctuary? One cannot leave.”

Crap. That can’t just be true. It can’t. He refuses to believe it. He’ll get out of here, somehow. Rodney will find a way, break down the barrier from the other side and John just needs to have patience – just needs to wait –

The man’s gaze travels down and John stiffens a little, but there is no ill will in the man’s expression, merely thoughtfulness and curiousity. “Have you come alone, John Sheppard?”

He doesn’t ask anything about a mate, but John’s pretty sure the man would have if he weren’t so polite, if he didn’t think such a question might be upsetting. No omega carrying a child would normally be wandering around alone.

“Yes. But it was a _mistake_ ,” John says. “Listen, is there no way to get back? Some other way out of the valley? I’ve already tried to pass through the barrier, but it stopped me, like it’s shielded. I've got to get back. I've got people waiting for me on the other side of the ridge.”

Arvid, as the man is called, looks troubled for a moment. “If that is true, then I am sorry. But there is no way out of the Sanctuary. But come, you must be in need of food and rest. I shall take you to my home.”

And what else can he do? If he can’t go this way or that, it doesn’t matter if he waits for a few hours, and he’s hungry and tired and food sounds good. Sleeps sounds nice. He hasn’t been able to rest properly for two nights.

* * *

So he follows the man into the village, where he’s introduced to the community’s inquisitive glances and he smiles at them all, nodding hi, but is glad when Arvid lets him sit down by the table inside a small wooden building that obviously is the man’s home, away from everybody’s eyes. Arvid has a sister there, Teer, who greets him with a smile, but no other family. No wife or husband or child.

Food is quickly brought out. After three days on water and MREs, the simple meal is heavenbrought, but he misses having Rodney there to complain about the lack of jell-o.

They’re all very friendly, these folks, but they’re all aliens and strangers and after having spent hour after hour talking with no one but his radio, he finds it a bit difficult to fall into conversation at first. Especially since he has nothing to relate to with these people.

When he speaks of coming through the Stargate, they don’t understand. Eventually, Teer mentions something about an old legend of rings built eons ago, and John fills in, “Yeah, the ancestral rings. We use them to travel between worlds.”

“Remarkable!” Arvid says. “You travelled to our world through one of the rings?”

“Yes. Yours is in orbit around the planet so we used a small ship,” he says between bites – man, he’s _hungry_ – but realizes they comprehended less than a third of that sentence, and adds. “It's inaccessible by ground, so we have a flying craft that we used to get here. Then we discovered the barrier, and I stepped through by mistake – I couldn’t back out if it.”

“We? So more of your people came to our … planet?” Teer asks, obviously unfamiliar with the concept. If this place has been isolated for generations then that might not be that odd, but John has difficulties grasping _that_ concept.

“Yes, my team - Teyla, Ronon and Rodney McKay. We’re ... explorers.” They're so much more than just that, but any other explanation would only be long-winded. These village contains no soldiers, and they don't seem to know or remember the Wraith.

“Ah, your life-mate.”

He stares at her in surprise.

“Many of the people in the Cloister have gained various abilities in our strife to ascend. I have long had foreseeing dreams. I saw your coming, and many of the things that it shall entail.”

He abandons the food in favour of her words, seeking some crystalline definition of hope, of possibility. “Did it entail me getting out of here?”

The woman looks away then, and a knot ties in John’s throat.

* * *

Had he had anything with him worth to pack, he would have done so. Instead, he walks back to the edge of the barrier empty-handed, not even bothering to put on his TAC vest because it’s only uncomfortable against the round of his belly. He leaves his equipment in Arvid’s house, wherein he’s been welcomed to stay – indefinitely, if he so wishes, but he doesn’t.

On the way out of the village one of the people working in the fields, a woman in her thirties, calls out, asking where he’s going.

“I have to go back.”

“Back?” The woman blinks in surprise. As if not entirely comprehending. “That is not possible. Once you have crossed the threshold, there is no return. You must stay to reach ascension.”

John doesn’t want to believe her ( _cannot_ believe her or anyone and their words of no return) and continues anyway.

* * *

Four hours later he returns to the Cloister, sunset having laid its purple-golden shadow over the valley, after having stood throwing rocks at the shielded opening only to have them bouncing back.

He’s yelled at the barrier for it to open and he’s reached out like he does when operating the chair, but there’s no response to his gene or his pleads.

When he returns, people have retreated indoors, candles flickering in the glassless windows. There are no voices from far-off, no families gathered around a fireplace laughing, because everyone is meditating in silence.

He doesn’t have the heart to join them. Instead, John creeps into the bed given to him, and he’s slept on forest floors and in deserts and should have no trouble falling asleep on a perfectly good mattress, but when he closes his eyes he only has nightmares.

* * *

Ascension. John has read about it, in reports and in the database, and thinks of the ascended priestess they encountered before regaining contact with Earth. Every villager looks wistful and distant as they speak of it, their goal, their dream; to live only to reach a state of pure energy, nothingness, losing their bodies and risking their individuality.

When he says he needs to get out, they only look at him strangely and shake their heads, saying _There is no way out. Once you have crossed the threshold, you must stay to reach ascension._

John doesn’t want to fucking ascend. He just wants Rodney and Atlantis and jumpers soaring through the sky to visit stars and have his baby with Rodney beside him, hand clasped within his own - and _no one gets it._

It’s like they have forgotten what it is to long for anything but a higher state of being.

Even the few mated couples he’s seen – many are celibate, dedicating their life to prayer – are distant and aloof, and they even circulate the children so that everyone and no one takes care of them. It would only distract them from their true goal. They would lose their focus otherwise, they claim. John is too emotionally tired after screaming at the barrier for hours to engage in a debate with them, even if he doesn’t really agree with what they say or do. He’s a stranger and these people have lived like this for generations, trapped and bound.

It’s been twelve days now.

How many more will he have to wait?

* * *

As often as he can he leaves the village, ignoring all questions, to go back to the opening in the ridge. He goes alone. If someone had ever asked to accompany him he might’ve said yes, but the people are too scared to leave the village and they only plead for him to stay, to linger, to not do anything but _wait_.

Meditate, they say. Accept, they say. Forget, they say. Forget Atlantis and his mate and his team and his family and his past and _everything_. Let go. Ascend. They’ll help him, they say, if he just lets them.

John isn’t sure if he can let them. He can’t let go of hope in order to let them help him.

They just don’t _understand_.

* * *

The fifth time he goes to the cave, he finds a heap of supplies waiting for him – enough to last a person a month, perhaps. There’s food and water and equipment for survival, hastily thrown together, and it sparks hope inside of him that _we’re here, we’re coming, we’re thinking about_ _you_ even if it’s taking them all so long.

Atop one of the bags, there’s a note pinned in place. Not a datapad, because it might’ve flickered out and died before John could see what it says and he’s glad for Rodney’s insight, but the message is also painfully short and useless in its lack of information, of reference. Nevertheless, John clings to the words.

_We’re working on it. Hold on._

* * *

They’re all meditating again. John’s back aches as he sits there, staring blankly at the walls.

Why is no one coming?

What’s taking them so long?

Rodney wouldn’t abandon him.

Why is no one coming?

How many hours are there left?

_Come on, Rodney, I’m waiting for you._

* * *

He’s given them time.

_Time_.

When he realizes the answer to the question _Why_ , it leaves him numb with the knowledge that maybe the ratio of the difference, or dilation or whatever the correct term is, may be a hundred to one or _more_ – why else would it take them a week to send those supplies? And with such a short, vague note, scribbled down in five seconds like there was no time to be more elaborate?

And there’s a chance then that he could be stuck here for months and _years_ without a way out. When Rodney finally cracks the code and finds a way both in and out the barrier, John can have reached twice his age and have had the baby since long ago and –

But he’s got to hope. They don’t leave people behind.

Rodney won’t leave him behind.

* * *

It was so stupid. Coming on the mission. It was meant to be his last, he’d already discussed it with Rodney and they had agreed that after that he’d take a break, request a leave, and they could spend time in the lab and in the city, just the two of them. He should’ve stayed behind. Let Lorne take care of it. Lorne is a good man, a competent soldier and leader and John curses again and again, that he had to let curiousity overtake him and stepped through the barrier before they had examined it closely.

He should have stayed. Should have stopped.

Should have. Should have. Should have.

* * *

It rains sometimes, but within the Sanctuary there are no thunderstorms and there is no sharp hail. The orchards bloom and the crops thrive. In the woods and out on the fields there’s the sound of crickets and birdsong, but he never spots any wildlife other than a few harmless rabbits. Out there, there are no enemies, no predators, only the sun and the clouds and he cannot touch the sky from this far down.

The silence at night is eerie.

He misses the hum of Atlantis.

* * *

He tries being calm and sit with the villagers and mediate. He joins them as they eat and share stories and in the process learns a little more about them as he tries to make them understand. All of them are born in here, in safety, yet they are so ridiculously scared of everything. When he tells them about the Wraith and fighting and discovering the galaxy, they all look terrified and stare at him as if he and his people were mad.

“But what of ascension?” Teer asks. “Does this war you speak of not distract you? This place is peaceful; we would gladly welcome more who wish to escape from the dangers of life.”

“We don’t care too much about ascension,” John responds. “I mean, if it takes whole lives to reach that, then what’s the point? I prefer living, here and now, flesh and blood, not becoming some shapeless energy. It’s much more important to fight the Wraith and find a way to get rid of them, so that the whole galaxy can be safe and at peace, not just a fraction of it.” Besides he's pretty sure ascended folks don't play golf.

“Oh.” Her eyes flicker.

Oh, wonderful, now he’s insulted them too. Shooting back from the table, he stands and excuses himself.

* * *

He doesn’t belong.

* * *

“John.”

He looks up as someone enters the cave. It’s Teer, and in the gloom he cannot quite read her face.

“You’ve been missing for several hours. We have been worried for you. It’s dangerous to leave the village.”

“Here?” He sighs, and turns around to keep staring at the veil. If Rodney could just send another message. A single word would be enough. “Nothing’s dangerous here.”

_Anything_.

“You wait for you people,” Teer says softly. Saddened. John doesn’t need her or anyone else’s pity. “But there is no one coming, John.”

“So you’ve said, yeah, yeah. But we don’t leave our people behind.”

“Your mate is amongst those who would come for you. The father.” It is more of a statement than a question. Has she dreamt that too, has she had visions of Rodney searching between gates?

“Yeah,” he says, voice growing rougher at the thought of Rodney, of the possibility of never seeing him again, at the risk of having lost him forever and never even having said goodbye – “Yeah, he is. And he’ll come,” he says again, trying to push away the image because he doesn’t want to have a fucking breakdown right now in front of her and cry; he hasn’t cried for years and she is a _stranger_.

“If you try to meditate with us again, you may find peace.”

He could’ve hit something. Shot something. He’s already tried venting his anger and frustration and grief by going into the woods where no villagers are, shooting without targets, but it was just a waste of bullets. His gun and TAC vest and every other piece of equipment are now stored away in the hut he’s sharing with Arvid’s family, hidden under the bed, useless shadows of a former life.

(When he’d shown the people his weapons, they had been terrified. They hadn’t seemed to grasp the fact that he’s a soldier.)

He’s still carrying a radio on him, though. In case. _If_.

“I’ve already tried and thank you, but no. I’m _not_ giving up hope and accepting that I’m _stuck_ here!”

“I am not asking you to give up hope, John,” Teer says gently. “But we fear for you, that you’re starting to wither away before our very eyes.”

He may be – slowly melting, the last snow claimed by the thaw, and he’s running out of ice to defend himself. She extends a hand, an offering.

Eventually, he stands up, and silently follows her back to the village.

* * *

_We’re working on it. Hold on._


	3. Chapter 3

He’s been trapped for a month.

Without Rodney here, without _anyone_ here that he truly knows – he’s alone. He’s terribly alone and he’s not able to enjoy carrying to baby as he should have, had he been on Atlantis, surrounded by his team, his _family_. The people are all right, even if they comprehend nothing; they’re kind and giving, providing him with food and shelter and some of them even offering friendship.

He hesitates to take the latter, because in a way it would mean trying to replace his team. Trying to push away their memory. To give up on them. But many of the villagers are distant, not wishing to grow attached to anyone, least to all a stranger who doesn’t favour spending time in the Cloister.

The only ones he really knows are Arvid and Teer, and the girl Hedda who often comes to visit them. Parenthood has no clear definition here. They’re all part of a community, and the girl is treated like everyone’s daughter. Like several others Hedda is so near ascension that she’s developed skills a normal human wouldn’t. She’s a healer, he’s told, despite being no older than thirteen, and he’s hesitant to believe until she effortlessly heals a cut one of the villagers gain when slipping and hurting themselves when working on the fields. The girl's selflessness reminds him of Carson, yet another missing link.

He wonders how they're doing back in Atlantis. If the city still is hidden from the Wraith. If they're all okay. If Rodney is okay. 

* * *

He runs countless laps in the valley, but without any work or missions or anything in-between, he must seek other outlets. He spends hours sitting on the simple veranda outside Arvid’s house, scribbling on parchment – it’s strange at first to use a quill and old-fashioned ink, but as the weeks pass, the feather begins to fit in his palm. Strings of numbers. Old mathematical problems he can recall and come up with. Scientific impossibilities. Useless, beautiful things.

He’s always found numbers relaxing before, but now they are also painful in his loneliness, and he draws charts of stars and gate addresses, thinking of Rodney, halfway across the galaxy.

The village has no scientists. They have no care for such things. They have no need to. They do not look up and study the stars. Instead, they dig into the earth to sow their crops and then they close their eyes and meditate some more. It’s a circle, all of these hours, and there is little to distinguish the days from one another.

The first few weeks he joins them in the field, because with physical work he can distract himself, dive out of his head for a couple of hours and let his body go on autopilot. But by the time he enters his twenty-fifth week they won’t allow him there anymore.

He can’t just sit around hopelessly waiting for something to happen, and he keeps up with running laps even if no one will join him for it. Perhaps that is for the best. He doesn’t like how they glance at him, like he’s something foreign and fragile and in need of support. He pretends not to notice when Teer or Arvid or someone else reaches out – there’s so much _pretending_ now (what will it be like in a month? A year? A lifetime?).

He doesn’t fit in here.

* * *

Most nights here are clouded and dim. But sometimes, when the sky clears, John goes out far past midnight and stares upwards, searching for the system that is home, somewhere on the wide canvas that he doesn’t quite recognize from here.

* * *

While the villagers meditate, John dreams of Ferris Wheels and flying cities and of Rodney overturning planets as he races to find him.

* * *

The baby grows. He tries not to think too much about it. It makes him feel so utterly lonely and abandoned, but, simultaneously, he cannot let the child out of his mind; his one constant, comfort, safety. His one last link back to the world on the other side of the ridge.

(If he cannot have anything else, he will have the baby, Rodney’s baby, and it’s got to be enough. It has to be enough. But it isn’t.)

During the days it’s all right; then he can sit outside the house and listen to the bustle of the village and the wind in the trees and be distracted. In the evenings he joins Arvid and Teer around the dinner-table, before they head off for more meditations. Conversation is a nice change of pace until there’s nothing more he can speak of with them.

These people have never crossed worlds, fought Wraith or driven something reaching two-hundred miles per hour. These people aren’t his people, and their wavelengths aren’t his own, and he cannot make them understand everything he says.

At night, though, all is quiet and there’s too much time left for him to think. Too often he lies staring at the ceiling, waiting for morning, feeling the baby move restlessly in its womb. Maybe it wants to get out of here just as much as he does.

* * *

_Find me, Rodney. Before the baby comes. Before I have to give birth to it alone. Come on. Come on ..._

* * *

He’s been trapped for two months.

One day, after a light rainfall, he decides to go back to the cave, but there is no message waiting for him and no new tracks have been added in the sand.

He returns to the village in silence, finding the people in the main meditative chamber, its walls open to the world around it and yet it’s like they’re surrounded by glass, all of them, cut off from each other. There’s no point because he’s not good at just sitting there, but he sinks down on a cushion anyway. This way he can at least _pretend._

* * *

Time can pass so painfully slowly.

It’s almost so that he can touch it.

* * *

He’s given up meditating long ago. He keeps drawing lines and trying to make sense of the world, occupy his mind, running the mile after mile around the village to clear his head. He ignores the people’s warning of dangers lurking in the woods, because he senses none and at this point he might not even care.

Running feels good. He can lose himself in the rhythm, feet pounding against the earth, everything going blurry around him.

* * *

Had he had any kind of reference to the outside world, he could’ve calculated the time difference long ago and figured out when they should be here. When they should find him. But now he can only claw blindly at facts he doesn’t know and he’s starting to crawl up the walls.

The charts are growing, bits and pieces being added when he remembers how the stars had looked like from the east pier, recalling the map created over his head the first time he sat in the Ancient Chair in Antarctica. It was so long ago.

The maps may as well have been false. It’s easy to erase them all and start over again, because that at least would give him something to _do_.

* * *

  _We’re working on it. Hold on._  


* * *

One hour and twenty-nine minutes.

They’re all idiots and too slow and nothing works and the probe just disintegrated against the field, so they can’t just dive down and pick Sheppard up.

Rodney’s heart is a tempest, and he ignores everyone in favour of his focus. If he fails, if he hesitates, it’ll be too late, it’ll be too late.

Not even Carson or Elizabeth can fully grasp what’s going on. How serious it is. He speaks rapidly, dumbing it down for everyone to understand as they load up medicines and rations and run back to the jumper. The ride to the gate, to Atlantis and back will have already taken too long.

The jumper ride back down to where Teyla and Ronon are waiting takes far, far too long even when they push the engines to maximum.

“Rodney,” Carson’s saying, “if he’s been in there, on the other side, for months, there’s a chance …”

“I know, I know.” He’s not an idiot. “But if he could get out on his own he’s had plenty of time to try. We’re not quitting now!”

The note he’d sent through with the second load of rations before rushing off to Atlantis hadn’t been enough and now he curses the fact that he hadn’t even mentioned the word _time_ within it, because that perhaps make John understand and forgive them for taking so long, for making him wait.

* * *

He’s been trapped for three months.

He’s still working on the star charts, the galaxy slowly expanding before his eyes. When he runs out of stars and planets to mark, he returns to the numbers, wistfully thinking of how Rodney would be hovering over his shoulder checking for errors continually. Now there’s no one to correct him.

Occasionally Hedda, who’s young and more curious than the rest, gathers around him along with some other children on the porch and they look on amused as he draws up calculations on the muddy road for them to see. They ask what it all means and it’s a bit difficult to explain, but it makes them laugh and in those moments his heart grows a little lighter too, as he is distracted from the deep longing rooted in his chest.

Sometimes, albeit rarely, he smiles.

Then he remembers Atlantis gleaming under the sun and how it felt to fly and the last time he and Rodney kissed, and he erases the numbers in the mud and urges the kids to run off and play hide and seek instead. Thankfully they do as they’re told, but he doesn’t miss how Teer looks at him across the yard, a shadow on her face. He wants to tell her that _I’m all right, really, I am,_ but he can’t.

* * *

“What’s that?” Hedda asks, pointing at the chart, at the system representing Atlantis, with the curiosity of an innocent child. It’s strange to think that she too is trying to ascend. That this child seeks to never know adulthood, to never grow up, but to become a shapeless energy along with everyone else here.

“Home.”

“Is it far?”

“Too far,” John murmurs.

The girl looks thoughtful. “Teer says there’s a war being fought out there.”

“Yeah. There is. It’s not a safe place, the galaxy, or even Atlantis. But it’s home.” He doesn’t want to burden the girl, so he considers the worth of amusement of hockey games instead, pitying the fact they’ve got no televisions. “Hey, want to hear a story?”

The kids don’t know what hockey is, and he’s makes roundabouts about warriors and monsters like he did when telling the same thing to those Athosian children such a long time ago, when they’d only just arrived in Atlantis – but they seem to like it anyway, even if these children are much more easily frightened than the children of Athos.

These children have never known the oppression of the Wraith, or the fear of starvation because all here is plenty, and they have never been caught in a thunderstorm that can shake houses.

* * *

Returning to the portal is like cutting open a wound that’s just begun to heal, determined to make it a permanent scar.

No more supplies have been sent. As if they’ve been halted on the other side. As if they’ve realized that he can’t get out anyhow. As if they think that he’s dead. Perhaps he’s been reported MIA and an empty casket sent back to Earth, and he thinks about Rodney in a black suit and even his brother, how Dave would react when hearing the news. They’ve never been close. Now since John left and began hiding.

He wonders how Dave would react if he ever was told he could’ve been an uncle. What his father would say if he knew.

Before leaving again, he thinks for a moment about choosing the right words, and finally making up his mind he gathers the rocks and pebbles he can find. He dissolves the arrow he’d left for them to find months earlier, and in its stead he forms a message. He considers writing SAFE AND WAITING or I’M IN THE VILLAGE, or just RODNEY, I MISS YOU.

If they come. If they see. If they want to know.

* * *

  _ALIVE._  


* * *

They don’t leave people behind.

They _never_ leave people behind.

John dreams of being alone in a vast sea, of being ejected from a puddlejumper into the icy nothingness of space, of being abandoned in a world without atoms.


	4. Chapter 4

“You're  _sure_ it was three seconds? And you received twelve point five minutes of video?”

“Yes,” Teyla nods vigorously. “I sent my watch in along with the recorder.”

“Excuse me,” Carson cuts in, “but what does that mean for Colonel Sheppard? How many minutes will that be for him?”

Rodney shakes his head. No time. No time. No argument. They’ve got to move out of here and enter the barrier and shut it down and – _John, I’m coming, hang on, hang on._

“We’re not talking minutes. We’re talking months.”

* * *

The last time John visits the opening to the valley, he’s entered his thirty-ninth week, and it takes a good while to get there. Teer is still the only one who’s dared to leave the village, to come this far, but she’s probably busy and he doesn’t want to depend on her or anyone to just _walk_ , so he ignores his protesting back and thrumming ankles and crosses the woods with slow certain steps.

He hopes (he always does, a flickering flame that is slowly dying), but there’s nothing there.

If he sits here waiting long enough, they’ll come. They’ll come. They’ll find him. They can’t have abandoned him.

He’s been trapped for four months.

He turns on the radio. No one is there to hear and this is the last time he can use it before the batteries are _definitely_ dead – he’s had it shut off for three months – but –

“Rodney, I know you probably can’t hear. But, if you really can’t find me, I …” _I love you. I love you and I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye and_ – He draws a shaky sighs, something inside him hurting sharply. “ … I hope I’ll have a daughter with your eyes. I’ll make sure she’ll learn her sciences and doesn’t eat citrus if you just get your ass over here and get me out of this place. That’s all I’m asking. That’s all. Also, you’re an egoistic idiotic ass and I still haven’t forgotten about you destroying five sixths of a solar system.”

Nothing but silence, empty static in reply.

“Just. Don’t give up on me yet, because I’m dangerously close to giving up on you guys and – and that’s something I can’t afford. Sheppard out.”

The radio goes out then for good and he throws at the barrier, shouting a curse but just like the rocks and all other useless words he’s thrown at the veil, it bounces back with a clatter.

* * *

It’s not until he’s half-way back to the village, daylight dying, that he realizes that the pains he’s been feeling aren’t illusionary aches caused by his anger and the reeling anguish in his heart.

* * *

Two hours and forty-one minutes.

Rodney fears it might be too late. That there’s an error in his calculations and the ratio is all wrong and John has already faded away and turned to ashes.

It’s all or nothing now, and they cannot afford to hesitate any more.

“Ready?”

“Ready,” Elizabeth confirms. Carson is there too, as is the rest of the team, determined and armed but none of them are astrophysicist and Rodney doubts they can all grasp how serious this is. What it really _means_.

Major Lorne is to wait for them on the other side, but the man clearly is uneasy about it all. “You certain you’ll find a way out, Dr McKay?” Lorne asks.

It’s vital that they do. If else, the whole leadership of the expedition will be stuck in the time dilation field, not only the military commander but Elizabeth and the scientific chief and head of the medical staff and that would leave Lorne, who is a good man and leader but in Rodney’s fair opinion not _that_ good, in charge of the expedition. But Elizabeth insists on going, because she's the person most fluent in Ancient and chances are they'll be faced with more cryptic messages in the tongue around where the ZPM is located, and more importantly, John is a friend, and like Teyla, Ronon and Carson she wants to be there when they find him.

(They will. They _must.)_

“Of course, it’s simple, I’ve located the power source and shutting it off will be a piece of cake. Now, no more stalling. Let’s _go.”_

“Hey, doc.” Rodney raises an inquiring eyebrow as the marine nods at him. “Bring the Colonel back in one piece, will you?”

* * *

_We’re working on it. Hold on._

* * *

“John!”

Teer rushes up to support him and he reels back, away, but she refuses to back down. She leads him inside while he bites back another groan and _god, please, not now, not now, please, **not now** -_

Teer calls for her brother and there’s suddenly a mass of activity as the man enters the room, confused, having been roused from his meditations. John doesn’t want it to dawn on him, but it does, and he misses Atlantis more than anything as he’s lowered down on a bed, his muscles screaming. He should be in the infirmary, with proper painkillers and doctors and Rodney, Rodney by his side, and his team there, not alone on a backwater planet without even Tylenol.

_This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening!_

“John, how long have you been having contractions?” Teer asks, as Arvid rushes out to fetch water from the well.

He tries figuring it out, but cannot make sense of the hours and he can have missed the signs in his denial. “I, I don’t know. A few hours. They weren’t that bad, at first. Y-you don’t happen to have other healers than Hedda? ‘Cause she’s too young to, to -”

“Don’t worry, John,” she says and he wishes to believe her, “just breathe. We’ll help you.”

* * *

As with every birth in the Cloister, word spreads and everyone wakes to gather in the main building; and as night falls, the hours slipping by, the people share prayers of a safe delivery, joining in a collective meditation, hands clasped. Candles are lit. Lambent lanterns of hope.

John is unaware of all of this, in too much pain to notice the changes outside the windows, how the sky darkens and then clears, the sun climbing over the hilltops again.

* * *

Teer and Arvid are there, breathing with him and urging him to push and supporting his shoulders, and he has long since passed the stage of being embarrassed. Had he had the energy left over to do so, he might’ve cried, but he’s exhausted and in pain and covered in sweat, and his throat is all raw.

As a last support, he clings onto the thought of Rodney, who’s out there searching for him (he is. he has to be. must.) somewhere, and his promise, their promises, their vows.

* * *

He labours for nineteen hours.


	5. Chapter 5

When the tiny body is put on his chest, John can’t quite believe that she’s there. Her head has the oddest shape and she’s wailing, her voice clear and wet, and it’s the most endearing beautiful perfect thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

He can’t quite grasp that it’s his, his baby, which he’s carried for nine months.

“There. It’s over. You did good, John,” Teer says, smiling, albeit he doesn’t see her, vision all blurry as he reaches out to touch a tiny fist that immediately curls around his forefinger. And he doesn’t regret a moment of the sweat and tears and pain and blood, now when she’s here, _finally_ , so small in his arms. “Congratulations. You have a daughter.”

He’s tired, but Teer helps him into a position where he can hold the infant without dropping her. Then she opens her eyes a bit, they’re blue, and she’s got Rodney’s nose. She latches onto his left nipple and it hurts for a bit, but he’s willing to bear any pain and discomforts as long as she’ll remain safe and content.

She’s perfect. There are no other words befitting her.

(If he never gets out of here and she’s the last link he’ll ever have back to home, he’ll never let her go.)

* * *

Rodney passes through the barrier with a quick step, and albeit Elizabeth is right behind him he is alone for seven minutes and fifty-six seconds before she appears.

It’s more than enough time to let his thoughts trail down fifteen different directions and think of possible dangers and how to shut down the power source generating the field and John, John, _hold on, we’re coming for you –_

* * *

“Hey.”

His voice is a bit hoarse. Outside the windows, it’s bright, probably mid-day. In the makeshift cradle beside the bed, wrapped in blankets, the little girl is sleeping peacefully. John turns his head to look at her, glad of the consideration of putting her close enough for him to reach out and touch her – she grabs his finger again in a chubby possessive grip.

“Hello, John. I’m glad to see you awake.” Teer is across the room, folding linen or something else and puts down a basket as she approaches the bedside. “How are you feeling?”

“A bit sore, but okay,” he admits. “Thank you. I never got the chance to say it before, but - _thank you_.”

She smiles. “Every birth is a special occasion. I am honoured to have partaken in your daughter’s.”

He tries bending down to lift the child, but his body protests at that, and Teer has to help him to settle the baby in his arms. Once she’s there, safely in his grasp, he feels much more at ease. He strokes her tiny cheek, mesmerized. She’ll probably wake up soon wanting to be fed again but he’s ready to face her eardrum-piercing screams because she’s here, she’s real, _his_ _daughter._

“What shall you name her?”

“I –” he falters. He and Rodney hadn’t gotten to that stage yet. They hadn’t even had that additional ultra-scan in order to find out the baby’s gender. And now it’s been four months and yet maybe only hours or days. “I don’t know. Rodney and I never discussed it.”

It’s the first time for weeks that he’s said Rodney’s name, or the name of _anyone_ from Atlantis, and it causes his breath to hitch, a wave of emotion rolling over him. He sighs and shakes his head. He can think of names later. Once he’s back up on his feet. Then.

Teer smiles sadly, but does not comment, and asks nothing more. John isn’t sure he could’ve answered properly anyway.

* * *

By the time they’re all through, Rodney’s had thirty-five minutes to get more accurate readings from within the field which is all extremely fascinating – it’s all an illusion, but an incredibly strong one (there’s _definitely_ a ZedPM behind it all); the time dilation field is actually generating its own climate and time cycles, and he could go on for hours about the details, but Ronon hauls him up by the vest and orders him to get moving.

No further convincing is necessary.

* * *

Then suddenly the woman freezes up, a far-away look on her face, causing John to frown.

“Your friends,” she says, voice distant, as if she’s having a vision (like her dreams, a foretelling, something otherworldly). “They’ve come.”

_They’ve come_.

He tries sitting up, struggling with the infant in his arms. But they’re here – they’re here – Rodney’s here and he can’t just sit here –

“Help me up. I’ve got to meet them –”

“I’ll go and bring them here,” Teer says, shaking her head. “You are not yet fully recovered. _Rest_ , John.”

A thousand arguments rests on the tip of his tongue, but the sudden movement and raised voices has caused the baby to twist and let out a painful cry.

“Fine. Hurry.”

Time is relative and now that they’re here, within the barrier, there is no difference any more. But John has waited for so long he might be going mad.

* * *

As they leave the cave into which they’ve arrived when passing into the field, Carson mutters something about needing to be back in time for a date with Cadman and doesn’t seem to be soothed when Rodney assures him not to worry (they’ll only have to spend about twelve years in here for it to matter). Rodney’s certain how and where to shut the field off. But first they need to find John.

It’s surprisingly easy. There’s a trail, manmade, running from the cave toward what must be a settlement further down the valley. Outside the cave, it’s a beautiful summer day, birds are singing in the distance and they reach a field full of flowers. It’s all peaceful and tranquil. It’s easy to see why the Ancients built a Sanctuary such as this, at least if you’re fine with living without coffee and electricity and a true sky over your head, in order to let people slowly evolve.

There, at the bottom of the valley, surrounded by lush orchards, is a village. Many people are outside tending to their daily business but one person spots them, the armed strangers nearing at a distance, and calls out, quickly spreading word from one to the other.

“Oh great,” Rodney mutters, “another backwards village. Can any of you see Sheppard?”

But there’s no sign of him amongst the villagers. One of them approaches – a woman with curled brown hair and clear eyes. There is no surprise or fear in her, and she doesn’t inquire about their weapons or their purpose. “Greetings, people of Atlantis. I am Teer.”

“We are expected?” Elizabeth asks, hopeful.

“Yes, we believed you would attempt to reach us, though we could not be certain of your success. I’m glad to see all of you. You must have come for John. Please, if you’d follow –”

Rodney can’t stand it anymore and cuts her off before she can finish, pushing his way past Ronon and Elizabeth as he turns to the woman with a pale face, hands knotted. Oh god, John. _John is here._ “Is he all right? He’s alive, right? Oh my god, he has to be alive!”

The woman looks at him and smiles. “Your mate is safe, but quite weary.”

“’Weary’? Hello, love, I’m Carson, a medical doctor,” the Scot puts in, stepping forth. He’s carrying twenty pounds of medical supplies. “Is he ill or wounded? How long as he been here? What was his condition as he arrived, and how is he right now?”

“John arrived four months ago, and has lodged since then with my brother Arvid and I. He is uninjured.”

_Four months_. For Rodney it’s been three hours and fifteen minutes. How can he face his mate now, calm and collected, without worrying himself sick, without drowning him with his words and emotions? And how will John react at seeing him again? Will he be angry for being left waiting for so long, will his fury prevail over his relief and joy at their rescue?

_Four months_. Alone. Trapped. Abandoned.

Teer goes on; “Last night he went into labour.” At their startled and worried looks, the woman goes on; “Do not worry; both he and the child are all right.”

Labour. Birth. Child. _Oh god. Oh my god. Oh my **god** –_

Elizabeth puts a hand on his shoulder. “Rodney, _breathe_.”

* * *

The house is small and primitive, the windows without glass; at the moment the shutters are open letting in the breeze. The wooden porch creaks beneath their issue military boots as the woman opens the door, urging Rodney to step inside first and he takes a deep breath, exhales slowly –

“Teer, ‘s that you?”

That voice. So hauntingly familiar, so close to his heart. It’s tired and a bit hoarse but it’s warm, it’s real, just like he hasn’t been missing for two-hundred minutes.

“Hey,” Rodney whispers – he doesn’t mean to whisper, but when he steps into the yellow light and sees John sitting on the bed, something small wrapped in blankets resting in his arms, he grows a bit faint.

And John looks a bit faint too, as he suddenly flinches, clinging to the bundle with whitening knuckles.

“Rodney!”

Almost like _You’re real. You’re **real** –_

“Hey, John. I’m here. _We’re_ here,” he corrects himself but the others are just shadows in his mind right now and all he can see is John. “I – are –” He doesn’t know which questions to pose first.

Steps halting, he crosses the threshold, nearing the bedside and god, John’s sitting there, and he’s real, breathing and _alive_.

They made it in time. But it’s too late, too. Four months. The baby. Birth. He’s a father. God, he’s a _father_.

Eventually John meets his eyes, and he looks a bit like he’s afraid that he’s seeing ghosts. “… You took your time, Rodney.”

“Sorry. I’m so sorry. We hurried. We worked as fast as we could. I’m so, so sorry. But …”

He sinks to his knees next to the bed and reaches out to touch him. John is warm, his pulse steady. Quietly John shudders, accepting the hand on his cheek like he hasn’t been touched for weeks, for months. The admission following is soft, nearly inaudible. “Missed you.”

He’s missed John too, but his panic has been a shockwave, a tide, overriding all other needs, urging him to find John in time. But John has waited for countless hours, plenty of time to despair.

“Sorry,” Rodney mutters again.

“I stepped through the damn portal. It’s my fault, no one else’s.” John means to say more, but the baby shifts and begins to wail, waking up from its nap, and Rodney takes a good look at it for the first time.

That’s _his_. His baby. _Their child._

“It’s a girl,” John supplies, softly.

“Oh, she’s beautiful, John. She’s perfect. Thank god you’re both all right.” It’s a mantra coming straight from his heart. “She’s got your ears … I hope she’ll have inherited my brilliance, though. Can – can I…?”

“As long as you don’t drop her.”

“It’ll be fine; I was dropped on my head like a dozen times when I was a kid and I’m no worse for wear –”

Apparently it’s not the right thing to say. John hesitates, tensing visibly, his fingers curled possessively around the small blanketed body.

“Okay, okay, calm down. I _swear_ I won’t drop her,” Rodney promises heartily.

Bit by bit the omega’s grip on her eases and the baby is transferred to the alpha’s waiting arms and oh, oh, _this is their baby_. She’s heavier than he’d expected, and warm and so small and fragile.

“We have to name her …”

“Yeah.” Rodney’s already made lists, a fifteen pages long document stored on his favourite laptop back in the city, but he can rule out a whole load of them on the top of his head, now that he’s looking down at the face of the child. But there are some of them that seem fitting. “What about Jennifer? Or Evelyn?”

John scrunches up his nose.

“Elizabeth? That’s a good name.”

“As a middle name,” John argues. “We already have an Elizabeth.”

“She’d hardly be displeased about having our daughter named after her! But, you’re right, a middle name. You’re so stubborn; honestly, you _always_ get to name everything. What about Marie? With _ie_ , not _y_ ,” Rodney amplifies and John smiles.

It fits.

“Yeah. Marie Elizabeth Sheppard-McKay.”

“McKay-Sheppard.”

“ _Sheppard_ -McKay.”

Rodney sighs exasperatedly and rolls his eyes, because John’s being ridiculous but he gives in. “Okay, well, _fine_.”

The omega smiles and clasps his hand. “Let’s go, Rodney.”

* * *

The others are waiting outside, restlessly, but Rodney’s glad they never intruded on the exchange. They need this time together. As soon as they leave the house, Carson will be over John at once, fussing as any doctor would, and they’ll be surrounded by inquires and curious gazes and Rodney hopes to delay that for as long as possible, to not overwhelm John all at once.

Despite having been through a great deal of stress and a painful ordeal, John refuses to do anything but walk on his own two feet, but he does allow Rodney to support him, an arm clasped securely around his waist. He clings stubbornly to the child, like a life-line and maybe it is – maybe John still can’t quite believe that they’ve finally come for him and the baby is his last comfort, the one secure thing he knows.

As they step out together into the sun, there’s a flurry of activity, questions being asked, shadows hovering. The commotion attracts some attention from the villagers, but Rodney ushers them all away.

“Come on, give the man some space, he’s just given birth and spent four months stuck in a time dilation field. Everyone back off,” he says impatiently waving his free hand. “No, Carson, I didn’t mean you.”

In the daylight, John looks even more worn out than before, his shoulders thin. But he smiles at seeing them, and it’s both warming and heart-breaking. It’s as if he hasn’t smiled for weeks and almost forgotten how it works.

They all try getting a look at the baby, but Rodney steps up like a shield until John murmurs, “It’s okay, Rodney.”

Carson counts ten fingers and toes and does some voodoo Rodney doesn’t quite catch, but the doctor is quick about it, a relieved look on his face. He asks some questions which John quietly answers, his face pressed against Rodney’s neck for support. Throughout the whole thing the omega refuses to let go of her.

“ _Now_ are we ready to go?” Rodney asks impatiently. “Because nice as this place is, Atlantis is waiting for us, and I’ve figured out a way to shut down the time dilation field so we can get out of here without trouble, so let’s be on our way.”

Shockingly enough, John shakes his head. “No.”

“No? What do you mean _no_?!”

“I mean, we’re not just shutting down the field and walking away. This is a sanctuary. If we shut down the field, the Wraith will surely detect that the planet is inhabited and cull it and then the work of the Ancients will be all for nothing. No, you’re going to show these people to the power source and show them how it works, so they can turn it on again on their own.”

“John is right,” Teyla puts in. “This is their home and we cannot leave it open for destruction.”

Elizabeth agrees with her and there’s no point in fighting a battle he cannot win, but Rodney, albeit displeased, understands their point. But he just wants to get out of here. Take John back home.

“All right. You - Teer, was it? Follow me. There’s something I have to show you.”

* * *

The ZPM is glowing and humming quietly. Even surrounded by rock and woodland, buried and hidden away for generations, at the sight of it John can only think of home.

They show Teer how it works, how to turn on and off the field, and on Elizabeth’s advice they also leave a written manual for the future people of the sanctuary to use. This way, the future inhabitants of the valley will always have a choice.

John has a secret hope that it will teach them something, that it will help them fulfil their path and one day ascend – find their peace.

As they shut it down (Rodney grumbling about not being able to take the ZPM with them, reminding John of countless missions, as he leans against the alpha’s frame unable to form words to properly show his gratitude and relief and love), the whole sky glimmers.

* * *

He says goodbye quietly. They’ll never return, and both Teer and Arvid are fully aware of this, once Rodney has explained the details of the field. Both of them will have either ascended or died of age by the time John has settled back in Atlantis, and he has no desire to return even if this wasn’t so.

Hedda hugs him and cries a little, and he pats her awkwardly on the back. He lets her keep his notes, the star charts and all of the numbers, and the girl nods energetically as she promises to study them and learn. There’s no school in the village, knowledge is passed on in other ways, but Teer looks thoughtful. In the background Rodney looks startled and impressed and there’s pride too, hidden in his wide eyes and slack jaw, and John basks in the glow of his alpha’s presence.

“Wait-wait-wait, you _solved_ a Millennium equation? _You_ solved it? And you’re giving that girl all the notes?! But, but.” Rodney waves his arms emphatically, clearly stating what he’s thinking. “But, John! It’s worth a fortune! And, and I never knew you could do that, why didn’t you tell me you could do that! Not to say you’re not smart because you’re astoundingly clever, for being military, and I knew that of course, you’re my mate, but –” The man clears his throat. People are starting to stare, their teammates smiling.

John shrugs. “I was bored. It’s not the whole proof, anyway.”

Now that Rodney’s here he can’t care less about the symbols. They can be rewritten and solved again. Money can be earned in a thousand different ways. None of it matters, only his family does.

Rodney can’t be replaced or rewritten.

“Come on, Rodney. I’m ready to go home.”

* * *

The opening in the ridge is no longer a black void, but sunlight streams through from the other side and they walk over the threshold without any shield holding them back. Once they’re all through, it flickers into being again, the energy readings spiking suddenly.

He’s probably imagining things, but John thinks he can hear the shadow of Teer’s voice in his head, whispering _Thank you_ and _farewell._

* * *

Half-way to the jumper, John stumbles, his body protesting after being up and walking for too long. He’s still in a bit of a daze, and he hasn’t fully healed yet since the birth. On the outside he may be appearing calm and collected but on the inside he’s still on the heights of a rollercoaster, and the tearing pains are the least of his concerns. Nevertheless the others won’t let him walk, no matter how many times he says he’s fine, and in the end Ronon has to scoop him up and carry him the rest of the way.

It’s humiliating and annoying and but once the pressure’s off his feet, he realizes how damned tired he is, and he doesn’t realize he’s nearly asleep until he’s laid down on a bench at the back of the jumper, the hatch closing with a familiar hissing noise.

Rodney doesn’t leave his side for a moment, letting him pillow his head on the alpha’s knees and clasp his hand and that’s when John knows that it’s real, he’s been found, they’re _safe_.

* * *

Atlantis is a beacon of light, calling for them to return.

* * *

  **Hope** /həʊp/  
[verb/noun]  
 _expect and wish for something;_  
 _the feeling of expectation;_  
 _subconscious knowledge that everything will be all right_  



End file.
